er bat, apparently preoccupied with her own
thoughts--like a very grave goddess, he thought, glancing at her
askance--a very young goddess, immersed in celestial reverie far beyond
mortal comprehension.

"Do you like guavas?" she inquired. And, closing her own question: "But
you had better not until you are acclimated. Do you feel _very_ sleepy,
Mr. Hamil?"

"No, I don't," he said.

"Oh! You ought to conform to tradition. There's a particularly alluring
hammock on the veranda."

"To get rid of me is it necessary to make me take a nap?" he protested.

"So you refuse to go to sleep?"

"I certainly do."

She sighed and tucked the tennis-bat under her left arm. "Come," she
said, moving forward, "my father will ask me what I have done to amuse
you, and I had better hunt up something to tell him about. You'll want
to see the groves of course--"

"Yes, but I'm not going to drag you about with me--"

"Come," she repeated; and as he stood his ground obstinately:
"Please?"--with a rising inflection hinting at command.

"Why on earth don't you play tennis and let me sit and watch you?" he
asked, joining and keeping step with her.

"Why do you ask a woman for reasons, Mr. Hamil?"

"It's too bad to spoil your morning--"

"I know it; so in revenge I'm going to spoil yours. Our trip is called
'Seeing Florida,' so you must listen to your guide very attentively.
This is a pomelo grove--thank you," to the negro who opened the
gate--"here you see blossoms and ripe fruit together on the same tree. A
few palmettos have been planted here for various agricultural reasons.
This is a camphor bush"--touching it with her bat--"the leaves when
crushed in the palm exhale a delightful fragr--"

"Calypso!"

She turned toward him with coldest composure. "_That_ never happened,
Mr. Hamil."

"No," he said, "it never did."

A slight colour remained in his face; hers was cool enough.

"Did you think it happened?" she asked. He shook his head. "No," he
repeated seriously, "I know that it never happened."

She said: "If you are quite sure it never happened, there is no harm in
pretending it did.... What was it you called me?"

"I could never remember, Miss Cardross--unless you tell me."

"Then I'll tell you--if you are quite sure you don't remember. You
called me 'Calypso.'"

And looking up he surprised the rare laughter in her eyes.

"You are rather nice after all," she said, "or is it only that I have
you under such rigid di